


Cool Hand Proteus

by babbling_bug



Series: meme responses, prompts, requests etc. [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbling_bug/pseuds/babbling_bug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU drabble meme prompt that ran away from me: #14 Prison AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cool Hand Proteus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyemeohmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/gifts).



It had been a stressful day. First, he had been jolted awake by the unseemly noise one of his neighbours had been making, then his morning Energon had been cold and substandard mid-grade swill, it still wasn’t sitting right in his tanks, and then he’d been told that the detailer he had ordered to touch-up his paintjob wasn’t available. He’d complained to the management, but the incompetent fools weren’t likely to make improvements any time soon. Then, to make things worse, Shockwave- the smug bastard- had come to gloat, and with his endlessly irritating enforcer protégé in tow. How the good senator could stand to ignore his own hypocrisy, what with the obscene way he liked to hang off that damn insufferable cop, Proteus would never know (and he had no interest in finding out).

After that, the entire cycle had to be written off as intolerable. The neighbours would not cease making a terrible racket, the Energon continued to be disgusting, and Proteus was left with but one thing left to do to distract himself from the woeful state of his usually flawless finish.

Settling into his most comfortable chair, he sat directly opposite Sentinel, glaring for all he was worth. The idiot needed to be punished.

Smoothing his hands down his chassis, mindful of the little dings and scuffs he found, Proteus sighed, loosening his plates.

"Stop that," Sentinel commanded immediately, voice thin and quiet in the distance.

Proteus only fixed him with an annoyed look, keeping his optics locked on his old accomplice as his fingers delicately followed the gaps in his chest armour, dainty fingertips dancing down his torso to his hips where he traced a line around his interface panel. Rubbing against it lightly, he rocked his hips into the motion, watching intently as Sentinel twitched impotently, knowing he could not touch. Without further preamble, he retracted his panel, catching his cord firmly in one hand.

Spreading his legs wide apart, he groaned as he stroked himself, giving Sentinel an unobstructed view of his valve. Gripping himself tightly, he moved his wrist in short, twisting strokes, focusing on the very tip of his cord; exactly as if he were amusing himself with Sentinel’s rather… larger equipment.

Slowly working himself up to a nice charge, he let his free hand wander back up across his chest, gasping at the dual sensory feedback as he dug his fingers roughly into the seams around his spark chamber.

"Stop," Sentinel says again, his tone approaching something close to desperate.

Cord in hand, not once breaking his rhythm, Proteus rose from his seat, walking up to the energy barrier that separated his cell from the corridor, fully cognizant of the lubricant slowly dripping down from his valve.

"And why should I do that?" He asks, his blithe tone masking his venomous thoughts. Delicately pinching the head of his cord, he watches as Sentinel paces his considerably smaller cell like a wild beast, barely managing three steps before he has to whirl about to avoid the wall.

Proteus lets the fool suffer; this is all he has left to entertain himself with now. Disgraced senator or not, his House was still influential and he has reaped what benefits he could from it. But after everything, Sentinel was left with nothing, which meant that he was feeling the full brunt of the Cybertronian prison system- deactivated interface components being one of them.

He was still free to have sexual urges, however, and that was the only way Proteus could torment him.

"After all, it is your incompetence that landed us, _me_ , here,” he states mildly, turning his back on Sentinel and planting his feet wide apart before bending over at the waist, exposing his valve and the glistening lines of lubricant that had slicked down his legs.

Switching to longer strokes along his cord, he drags a single finger up his thigh, gathering the lubricant to smear it around the fine metalmesh of his valve, teasing across the plush lips before he dips the digit in just enough to coat the tip in blue lubricant.

"My- _my_ incompetence? It was you and your hideous proclivities that did you in, and _implicated me_! Or were you not present at the trial?” Sentinel hisses loudly enough to be heard over the humming barriers between them.

Proteus pays him no mind, circling the rim of his valve once, achingly slowly, before he adds another finger, smoothing them up and down his slit while the sound of Sentinel stomping around his cell continues. Vents puffing a sigh, he pushes his aft dangerously close to the barrier of his cell, anchoring himself, before he slowly splays his fingers into a V shape, opening up the lips of his valve.

Sentinel stops pacing and Proteus can feel his optics on him as surely as he can feel the lubricant dripping from his valve to pool between his fingers. He sighs in pleasure, not letting up his rhythm on his cord even as he restrains himself from plunging his digits into his valve. He’d love to give into the need to fill himself up, but that’s not the game they’re playing anymore.

"Stop that," Sentinel insists once more, his voice raw and definitely, definitely, desperate.

Good, Proteus thinks, smirking where the ex-Prime can’t see.

"Well, what else can I do, Sentinel? You’ve left me with no other option," he breathes out as he slowly undulates his fingers; open, closed, open, closed, squeezing the lips of his valve together and drawing out steadily more lubricant. "I would pay the guards to beat you… but I think we both know that you would enjoy that a bit too much."

The insult, apparently, is too great. A threat to the glorified henchman’s machismo… or something.

"Guards!" Sentinel barks, his tone full of the authority that Proteus had once granted him, sending shivers down his spinal struts. "The honourable senator is being vulgar. I object to it."

Grinning viciously at the challenge, he ignores how Sentinel’s neighbours (who had until this point been observing quietly) responded with raucous protests, and snaps his hand out, bringing it back down on his valve with a wet slap, moaning loud enough to silence the entire ward at the pleasant sting.

"Guards!" He calls out, his tone openly broadcasting his arousal. "Prisoner 1138 is impeding my right to privacy!"

"You have no such right, you frelling pitspawn!" Sentinel shouts over the sound of his neighbours picking up their protestations again, even as one of the prison guards exits the monitoring station at the end of the corridor, calling for silence as he makes his way toward Proteus and Sentinel’s respective cells.

For his part, Proteus continues massaging the lips of his valve and stroking his cord, mouth open and panting as he approaches climax.

"Prisoner 1138, place your hands on the wall," the guard orders, standing outside Sentinel’s cell. Proteus can see him standing there from between his legs.

"But-" Sentinel starts, but the guard cuts him off, and Proteus helps punctuate his words with unabashed moans.

"I don’t want to hear it. Hands on the wall, or you go to solitary."

Stifling a laugh, Proteus tracks the ex-Prime’s movements from between his legs as he is forced to turn his back on Proteus and brace both hands against the far wall of his cell. Content in victory, he gives in to the pressure building at the apex of his thighs, moving his hand vigorously along his shaft and finally allowing his fingers to seek out his exterior node. He lets loose a ragged moan as his fingers noisily work over his valve, the excess lubricant providing a gentle slip and squish with every stroke of his frantic digits. Seconds later his hips buck forward, pushing the sensitive head of his cord through the tight ring he’s created with his fingers and he overloads with a shout, releasing a spurt of transfluid across the floor of his cell.

Still high from tormenting Sentinel, he rocks into the aftershocks, squeezing the tip of his cord again while he presses his hand harder against the length of his valve; imagining Sentinel’s face as he stands across the corridor, cooling fans working hard to dispel the heat in his frame, flush with arousal, and his cord lying completely dormant behind its panel. The mech who was once a Prime, completely neutered. The overload in his valve is stronger, as it always is, fuelling another, smaller spurt of transfluid from his cord, and he groans as he slowly sinks down to his knees. He lets the sensations wash through his body, limbs shaking as he gently rocks against his hands, riding out the pleasure.

Sated, he sighs in relief and gingerly picks himself up from the floor, aware of the mess of lubricant and transfluid he’s made. Stepping around it, he picks up his least favourite blanket and throws it over the puddle- someone would clean it up while he used the washracks the next morning- then lays down on his berth (also conveniently facing Sentinel’s cell). He watches with a small smile as the guard finally releases Sentinel from his position against the wall and makes his way back to the monitoring station, hardly paying Proteus a glance back. But Sentinel has his optics on him again, and his smile widens into a smirk as he hikes his knees up and slowly lets his legs fall apart again, flashing his lubricant-slick valve to the angry ex-Prime.

Snorting a quiet laugh, Proteus falls into recharge easily, knowing Sentinel would be awake for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to tell you. There's two versions of prison au that I can think of with these two. Second version will be shorter and will be posted eventually as chapter 2.


End file.
